


Dazed

by absurdvampmuse



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 09:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absurdvampmuse/pseuds/absurdvampmuse
Summary: Betty/Jughead (Bughead). Set right after ep. 11./She looked out of place in her sparkling dress and formal heels standing amid the wreckage, closing the door quickly as if she could hide all of this from the world. If he hadn’t been so upset he would have been able to appreciate the imagery it provided, the sight of her clad in nothing but shimmer before the twilight that circumscribed him./





	Dazed

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the rights to the comic books or the TV series. I am merely borrowing the characters. All I own is my imagination and the laptop I wrote this on.
> 
> A/N: So, I know I'm one of the many who wrote their version of the aftermath of episode 11, but I had to get this out of my system. I really enjoyed reading everybody's takes, so I genuinely hope you'll give mine a chance as well. I don't know how accurate it may be since I haven't watched the 12th episode yet, purposely choosing to wait until after I post this. As always, I would really appreciate your feedback as well as any titles of great stories I might have missed! :)

**Dazed**

_I love you like I've never, ever loved somebody so don't tell me that it's not enough when the taste of your lips is still fresh._

Betty found herself physically unable to stay within the confines of her room with merely her patience to keep her company. She didn't have enough self-control for that, not when she could only steer her actions at this particular moment. And even those were slipping through her hands like grains of sand through an hourglass. There were only so many places she could go. Her need for control was partnered with her fear of Jughead being incapable of reaching out to her first, especially considering that they had never been this close before. Simultaneously, they couldn't be further apart. They were at opposite ends of the same room, within touching distance but still beyond her reach.

She wanted to show him that she wasn't letting him push her away and that she would be there for him. It was her turn to prove to him that she needed him. It was the only thing she could do to placate the guilt. She should've just been forthright and informed him of her mother's proposal to her, Archie and Veronica's intent as well as the suspicions she had of her own. It would have been okay. They would have been okay. Now the waters were murkier and the fear of possibly losing him over something like this was threatening to pull her under, her breaths coming more painfully at the sheer thought of it.

The police tape was already ripped through when she got to the trailer and the key precisely where Archie had mentioned it to be. Betty entered with a soft knock on the door, not wanting to startle him. The place she walked into was in complete disarray, papers wiped carelessly onto the floor, the table flipped onto its side and pillows strewn everywhere but where they were supposed to be. It was a mess and amongst the rubble sat Jughead, back against the wall and facing the door just in case his father would abruptly storm in and tell him that it had all been a mistake, a case of poor judgment.

She looked out of place in her sparkling dress and formal heels standing amid the wreckage, like Dorothy in the middle of the tornado. She closed the door quickly as if she could hide all of this from the world, pretend it didn't happen if she only shut out reality fast enough. One hand was clasped over her mouth as she scanned the home. Her eyes finally landed on Jughead as she took inventory of him, the suit jacket that was missing, the undone buttons at the top of his shirt, the eschew beanie and most notably the redness and puffiness that marked his eyes.

"You would think he was a wanted terrorist," was the first heavily barbed comment he directed at her, not acknowledging her presence any further than that.

Betty shook her head in disbelief, a faint look of disgust present once she dropped her hand. "I can't believe Sheriff Keller ripped this place apart. It seems so unnecessary."

Jughead scoffed at her remark. "Not when it comes to F.P. apparently. He is, after all, a frequent offender." His observation was meant to be a callous one, but she caught the sudden sheen that came to his eyes.

He blinked them away almost angrily as Betty took the final few strides over to him, gingerly and somewhat unsurely lowering herself down onto her knees in front of him. If he hadn't been so upset he would have been able to appreciate the imagery it provided, the sight of her clad in nothing but shimmer before the twilight that circumscribed him.

"Juggy," Betty said his name as if was something fragile that was close to breaking, teetering on the edge.

"Don't you dare ask me how I'm doing," he lashed out acutely, his gaze cutting as it swept upwards. "Not after my best friend went behind my back to look for evidence against my dad who was then arrested without anyone so much as giving him the benefit of the fucking doubt." He inwardly cringed at the profanity that he always thought of as being indicative of the bad parts throughout his life, black and white snapshots with grainy images that would ultimately be considered not quite right to be put on display in the family photo album. "And not after it was brought to light that my girlfriend, the person I am closest to, had at least an inkling of all of this and decided not to share any of it with me."

He practically pushed the words through his teeth at her, each accusation a blow that made Betty feel even worse than she already did. She didn't vocalize any of her emotions because she recognized that this wasn't about her, even though her eyes were truly the windows into her inner workings. He saw clearly what his words were doing to her, felt it as her pain resonated within himself. It was hurting him to hurt her.

"I'm so sorry," Betty tried again. "I can't—"

"Stop, Betty." He didn't want to hear her apologize again. It would cause for most of his anger at her to evaporate because the rational part of him knew that she had never intended for one omission to spiral so out of control. It had been out of her hands and instead put in the relentless ones of Veronica and the good-willed ones of Archie.

A nod of her head was her only reply as she pressed her lips together and her eyes focused on a spot on the floor. He saw her hands curl into themselves, a reaction that had somehow gotten ingrained. Before her nails could dig in Jughead threw her a lifeline. "Tell me what's happening?"

Her hands uncurled and instead her fingers found the hemline of her skirt, which was now dramatically sprawled out around her. "They took your dad down to the station for questioning. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews followed him there," she quickly reassured him. "Evidently, Mrs. Andrews has a lawyer on speed dial in case F.P. needs it."

Betty rattled off all the facts she had managed to gather and Jughead found some relief in the fact that his father hadn't gone down there alone. He dragged a hand over his tired features. "It's this town. Inherently suspicious of everything and everyone that doesn't fit in between its gilded frame." He tugged roughly at his beanie in an attempt to straighten it. "Little does everyone know that it's just a veneer." He spoke almost melodically, spinning an image with his words that she could easily picture. She liked hearing him speak; it was then undeniably clear that his knack for writing was a natural one.

"I know what Archie and Veronica did is inexcusable and maybe even unforgivable," she started, clutching the fabric of her dress so tightly that it made a rustling sound. "But when they searched the place, they didn't find anything, Jug. There was no gun," she clarified for him. "So, isn't it odd that when the sheriff's department ransacks the place that they do find one?"

Betty saw his face scrunch up in concentration as he let the full weight of her words sink in. "It depends on how thorough they were, really," he answered her rhetorical question after a beat or two. He said the words calmly, detaching himself from the situation momentarily as he took on the role of investigator.

"Comprehensively," she answered confidently and hopefully. "Veronica might have initially gone there for herself, but Archie was there so he could make sure that if there was something to find he could prepare and soften the blow for—"

"Such a pal that Archie, isn't he," Jughead stopped her. "All done out of the purity and benevolence of his heart and loyalty to his supposed best friend."

"I ran into them when I was looking for you, at Pop's," Betty added. "They were going down to the station as well to come clean about what they did and subsequently didn't find. They can't keep your father there if Archie and Veronica's story contradicts their assumption, I don't think."

"It's the least they can do."

"I told them the same thing." Betty cautiously rested her gaze on him. "I know you're hurt. By all of us, by me. But I was genuine when I told you that I didn't know what Archie and Veronica were planning. They didn't include me, not after my mom not so subtly urged me and Veronica to help her and I told the both of them that I had already asked you whether you believed your dad was innocent and that I trusted you. I said no. The dinner was just a suspicion I had."

"You should've still told me," Jughead responded, even though the conviction was lackluster.

Betty shrugged up her shoulder. "You were so excited. You saw the dinner as something good. Your dad perceived the invitation as something genuine. I thought that maybe I was just being jaded by my mom's past actions. I wanted to be hopeful as well." An unladylike snort followed her last sentence, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling as she rolled them. "But I should have known better."

"We are better than our parents, Betty," he was quick to remind her, most of his animosity no longer aimed at her.

"Am I?"

"Yes," he decided for her. "I might be mad at you for not articulating your skepticism, but you were on my side, despite your mother's poor request and our friends' misgivings."

Betty finally let go of her skirt and instead placed her hands on the knees of the boy before her. "I am profoundly sorry, Juggy."

He nodded, watching as she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and averted her eyes. "Just spit it out, Betts."

"At school, in the hall, you mentioned something about giving up the opportunity to move to Toledo… " she trailed off so he could fill in the blanks.

"My dad brought it up when he dropped us off. He's been trying and I offered to move back home. He came with the idea of getting everyone back together and moving to Toledo to reunite with my mom and Jellybean."

Betty put on a smile of encouragement, choosing to efface any personal feelings she had on the matter. "That's what you've wanted for a long time, isn't it?"

Jughead nodded, keeping his eyes on her hands as they applied light pressure to his knees. "It would mean though that I wouldn't see Archie anymore, not on a daily basis at least. I mean, don't get me wrong, being roommates with him leaves much to be desired…" He didn't finish his thought, focusing instead on the most important one as he leveled his eyes with hers. "It would also mean that I wouldn't see you anymore, every day."

Thinking that he was saying it for her benefit, Betty jumped in swiftly. "But we could call, text, visit."

Jughead shook his head with a slight huff of frustration at her self-effacement. "I would miss you too much. It would be insufferable, unbearable, just the thought," he expressed while placing his hands over hers.

"I don't want you to give up on a chance like that for me," Betty instructed him in the sternest voice she could muster because just the thought of not having him here was earthshattering as well as heart-shattering. "Because as much as I love you, Jughead, I'm not worth it." She realized her slip-up too late, the words already out. All she could do was recover with any leftover grace she managed to pull together. She freed her hands from underneath his, not looking at him as she was planning her escape. "Promise me you'll really think about it, taking into an account that I'm a non-factor, alright"

She scrambled upwards, her flaming cheeks the only remaining testimony of her profession. Jughead had registered the words she had said, the strong emotion she had confessed to, but he was currently paralyzed, unable to speak or move. The remainder of his anger dissipated and the feeling of warmth and affection intensified as they were brought to the forefront. They coursed through him, spreading through his body until it almost crushed him. There was nowhere left to expand to. Not from his spot on the floor.

"Here's the plan," Betty seized the opportunity, taking advantage of Jughead's atypical passiveness. "I told Archie to keep me updated." She placed her phone demonstratively on the countertop. "Until then, let's get this place cleaned up for when your dad gets back."

It was her zeal that made him stir from his daze. A faint smile appeared on his face as he remembered something that his mother always used to tell him. Something about how when you're in a relationship with someone, friendly or otherwise it's because you've accepted that the good parts of that person mean more to you than the bad parts. Everyone has both anyway.

He took her in as she kicked off her shoes and twirled her hair up into a messy bun of sorts. The moves were forcibly controlled and she only turned to look back at him when his silence had gone on for too long. "Unless you want to sleep or don't want me here right now?"

Before the doubt could eclipse the blue of her eyes like clouds appearing in a stark blue sky, he was on his feet. Spurred on by all that he was feeling and needed to express in one of the two ways he knew how to, he was in front of her within seconds. His hands landed on the countertop on either side of her, bracketing her in. It was a daring move, perhaps a bit too carnal and sudden than he had intended so he relented a little by wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him.

"I think I love you too," he admitted impulsively. "I don't have much to compare it to, of course, but it feels like what I picture love to be. This weightlessness and lightheadedness th—"

Betty swept up by him and the sentiment and tenderness of it all blindly swung her arms around his neck and kissed him. He deepened the kiss instantly, pushing her back gently against the counter although she barely noticed.

"All's well that ends well," he quipped, a little more smug than was necessary, while she gasped for breath. She could only nod, now the one who was left in a frozen state. "And I'm not leaving," he committed openly to her. "Not to Toledo or anywhere."

She struggled to find the right words, debating whether she should try to dissuade him from the decision once more. "I'll tell you everything from now on," were the words she settled on instead, making him a promise of her own. "Perhaps even to the point of over-sharing."

"That's a risk I'll gladly take," he responded in a serious tone. His hands were still on her, one cupping her face as he placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. "And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long," he murmured against her skin.

"Sylvia Plath," Betty guessed, an automatic response as it was one of the games they sometimes played while in The Blue and Gold office, just the two of them.

It was a somewhat morbid and dark choice, wholly characteristic of him. Still, in the moment it was one of the most romantic things she had ever heard. The emotion was deeply embedded in the words and the effect was immediate as she felt herself swoon.

Jughead felt her knees buckle ever so slightly and he made sure he let her go little by little, not wanting to admit that he was feeling a little unsteady himself.

To blame were the weightlessness and lightheadedness that he had been aptly referring to.


End file.
